From Within
by at-kb
Summary: A different past, a different world. Something is wrong in Soul Society: every night, Rukia searches through Rukongai, and the Gotei 13 Squads are crumbling at their foundations, and in the corners of Seireitei there are whispers.
1. Chapter 1

**From Within**

**Summary:** A different past, a different world. Something is wrong in Soul Society; every night, Rukia searches through Rukongai, and in the corners of Seireitei there are whispers.

**Warnings:** T for creepiness and cursing.

**There will be spoilers up until the most recent chapter of the manga, as things are revealed and I incorporate them into this story.**

* * *

Chapter 1

.

This was not something he had ever wished to see again. It was a behavior too familiar, much too familiar. An echo of a sound that had vanished long ago.

Rukia was searching.

Byakuya crouched on the rooftop and watched his little sister walk down the filthy street, holding her thin scarf around her against the cold. She was looking for a person, scanning the face of every beggar crouched in the gutter and every thug leaning against the wall in the shade of an eave.

He didn't know when it had started. She'd been quiet but not unhappy when she entered the thirteenth division, or so he had thought. But ten years ago, perhaps, or twenty, he'd noticed how tired she seemed, and ever since then there had been something different about her. When she spoke to him, she was polite and small as always, avoiding his glance and speaking little: _Yes, Nii-sama. No, Nii-sama. _But when he saw her alone in the gardens, she moved slowly, without purpose, and nothing in her expression responded to the life glimmering on the lake and hovering in the trees around her. This, too, was familiar.

There was the death of Shiba Kaien to consider; he had heard her through her door as she wept for her vice-captain, but he couldn't imagine how that might have caused this. Rukia would know that Shiba had been reborn in the transient world—she wouldn't be searching for him in Rukongai.

When Byakuya had first followed her, his first conclusion had been that she must be searching for Hisana. But the next time he followed her, to ensure her safety as she ventured further and further out into the more dangerous districts, he had noticed: she wasn't looking at women's faces. She was looking for a man—a young man, if he was right.

He saw her trudge home safely once more, and then he took to his own study, lighting his lamp with a careful hand. He knew very little about her personal life; if there had been a man who had hurt her, who had abandoned her . . . he would track the man down himself and separate his head from his body, if only he had the slightest idea of who it might be. Had Rukia found love, twenty or thirty years ago? If she had conducted a romance privately, keeping it secret from him . . . her motives for doing so would not be obscure.

His lamp burned through midnight and into the chill of morning. The usual documents he had to sign as head of the Kuchiki family were spread out on his desk, but found that he retained little sense of them, even after picking them up to read three or four times. Superimposed over them was always the image of Rukia following in her sister's path, wandering through the alleys of Rukongai until she was too weak to stand, until her spirit ebbed and faded. Rukia . . . the walls of the Kuchiki manor had not protected her.

In the night, Rukongai's shadows seethed through its maze of crumbling mortar and rotting wood. He would not relinquish Rukia to them as he had relinquished his wife.

* * *

It was an effort to keep his face expressionless when the absence of his vice-captain at his side was so apparent. All of the other captains and vice-captains had arrived by now for the weekly officers' meeting; even Oomaeda and his vice-captain Madarame had bumbled in by now, trailing crumbs and mud, and bull-headed Kotsubaki had apparently managed once again to drag his captain from the barstool upon which he had undoubtedly greeted the dawn.

It was a disgrace; perhaps in the past Kyouraku had been an amiable, womanizing kind of drunk, as people said, but now he was certainly nothing more than a shabby alcoholic. It was unspoken knowledge that Kyouraku would have been dismissed if there had been any other capable alternative to take his place, but it seemed that men with both loyalty and spiritual strength were scarce on the ground in these years.

With the leaders of the Gotei 13 assembled before him, Byakuya could not help but think that Seireitei's days of greatness had passed.

There stood Komamura, who was not even human; Ukitake, who did little more than take handkerchiefs and tea from his vice-captain; Zaraki and Kurotsuchi, lunatics, both of them. Kotetsu the captain was a puddle of a woman, who was rumored to suffer from nightmares, and Ichimaru, with his bizarre sense of humor and odd affectations, was hardly any better. And he himself had broken the law as not a single Kuchiki in memory had done.

At last, his vice-captain skidded in from the doorway, just as the Captain-Commander struck his staff against the floor and called for order.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she whispered. And—yes, there was still alcohol on her breath too.

"We will discuss this later, Kotetsu-fukutaichou," he said, not averting his gaze.

Yes, he would discuss it later, reprimand her, assign punishments. But the next week, it would be the same story.

_Disgrace_, said Senbonzakura.

And what would happen when the aged Captain-Commander was no longer there to head the Gotei 13? Aizen and Tousen could be relied upon to continue to support the law, even though neither of them had the power to match Yamamoto's flames, but would it be enough?

Ignorant people might suppose the law to be like stone, but those who understood the law knew that it was fragile.

Byakuya was not too young to remember it. His grandfather had been in the fight; Byakuya had been a child, waiting behind the gates to hear whether the leadership of his family had now been passed to him. But his grandfather had returned, and the maids in the kitchen had been crying.

_Traitors_, they had said. Not lowly men, but captains who had banded together in a conspiracy: Hirako, Shihouin, Muguruma, Outoribashi, Aikawa, Urahara. They had tried to overthrow the Central 46 and take control of Soul Society.

* * *

**A/N: **So what do you guys think? I aim to make this like a 30k word story if people are interested. I have it all planned out already too.

Yes, Oomaeda is a captain and some people are captains of different divisions. And some people are just not there. There is a reason! If some characters seem a little OOC, there is also a reason for that, but I am trying to keep them as true to their real characters as possible, while incorporating the different backstory.

I want to reiterate that I don't necessarily agree with or approve of all of Byakuya's opinions or views.


	2. Chapter 2

Byakuya pulled his cloak more closely around himself; the wind was harsh this evening. Rukia had been venturing further and further into the most lawless districts: tonight it was Kusajishi, and he recalled the pink-haired child always clinging to that monster Zaraki's shoulder. It was not pleasant to think of her living here. The whole district was locked down, doors and windows barred, bony guard dogs barking behind battered walls.

He had not been able to reach a decision about Rukia. If he had simply instructed her to stop, it was possible that she would have continued to come here secretly, making it more difficult for him to protect her. If he ceased to follow her, she would again be in danger. So he found himself helpless, with no other course but to continue to shadow her under a veil of kido, as he had been.

His attention was drawn by an increase in Rukia's reiatsu—she was frightened.

A pack of men was approaching her.

Sensibly, she was backing against a wall, so that at least her back was covered. "I'm a shinigami, fools," she said loudly, putting her hand on the hilt of her zanpakuto.

"Sure you are," one of the men said, circling closer. "We get shinigami visiting here all the time, don't we, guys?"

"Probably just stole the uniform."

"Even know how to use that sword, little girl?"

Rukia drew Sode no Shirayuki: "Dance—"

And a storm of petal-like blades swirled around her, leaving each of her attackers on the ground, screaming into the dirt. Although Byakuya knew Rukia was almost certainly powerful enough to face them all at once, he didn't feel inclined to test the idea.

"Nii-sama," Rukia whispered.

Byakuya dropped the concealment and stepped out of the shadows, sheathing Senbonzakura as he did so. "Rukia," he said. "Let us leave this place."

"Yes, Nii-sama," she said, stepping over the bodies to follow him.

His flash steps had felt painfully slow moderated to what he thought were her abilities; still, when they finally reached the Kuchiki manor gardens, he looked back and there was sweat on her forehead, although of course she hadn't said anything. _And you are her older brother,_ said Senbonzakura.

"Rukia," he said.

"I am sorry, Nii-sama," she said, remaining where she had stopped, several feet away from him. In the moonlight, with her shoulders hunched, her outline seemed even slighter than usual, her sword large in proportion to her body.

"Rukia," he said again, stepping closer. "Who is the man for whom you are searching?"

They had landed close to the river; its rushing was ringing out into the night, and the air was damp.

Rukia folded her arms around herself. "It is . . . not important, Nii-sama. I'm sorry for wasting—"

"You will tell me who this man is," Byakuya said. He shook off the cloak, letting his pale scarf and kenseikan catch the moonlight filtering through the clouds.

"He was . . . someone who withdrew from the Gotei 13," she said at last. "I don't know what his reasons were."

"This man was originally from Rukongai. And he returned after his withdrawal?"

"I . . . I don't know, Nii-sama," Rukia said, in barely more than a whisper. "He was from Rukongai, but he left quickly, he . . . he didn't say where he was going."

"I see," said Byakuya. It was a breach of duty to withdraw from one's division except in cases of illness—and this man had not even cared to tell Rukia where he was going? Byakuya would not have thought Rukia capable of such foolishness, in endangering herself searching for such a worthless person. Perhaps he had forgotten how young she was; he had failed as her older brother in allowing it to go so far.

He had given Hisana his promise to protect Rukia, and he would not see another of his family destroy herself wandering in Rukongai—even less for the sake of an unworthy man who had abandoned his division and, seemingly, his friend.

"You will no longer pursue this person," Byakuya said. "And you will no longer enter Rukongai after nightfall."

"Yes, Nii-sama," said Rukia. She was shivering. "I am sorry."

"Please go inside," said Byakuya. His hand rested on Senbonzakura's hilt; he should have killed those men, he thought. Better that than tomorrow hearing the story of Kuchiki Byakuya brawling in the streets of Kusajishi. It seemed he could not cease tarnishing his family's reputation.

When she had gone, he headed straight for the archives.

He had not liked the story she'd told. He didn't doubt that it was true at least insofar as Rukia was aware, but what reason could a man have for escaping Rukongai, working his way through the academy and into the Gotei 13, and then choosing to withdraw back into indigence?

Byakuya went to the archives of the thirteenth division—his first guess at the origin of the man Rukia had known—and found their records of withdrawals between the time Rukia had entered the Gotei 13 squads and ten years ago.

He was tired; the fight had hardly been exhausting, but he had been working with barely any sleep for countless days now. His shoulders ached . . . and yet here he was. Perhaps, he thought, he was simply too afraid to walk past a door that would again not muffle the sound of crying.

Byakuya frowned, and looked again at the numbers. He had noticed something of a high number of withdrawals in his own division, but the difference in the records was more stark than he had thought.

In the past eighty years or so, each division had suffered on average one withdrawal a year.

A hundred and fifty years ago, only one division member had withdrawn about every twenty years, and it was the same for two hundred years ago, and three hundred, too.

It was . . . unsettling. The great majority of shinigami died in office or retired from old age, and being separated from one's division was considered a punishment, not something to be sought. That was how it had always been. That was how his grandfather had described it.

It was especially disturbing in the light of what had happened with Ise Nanao fifteen years ago. It had been known that she was had been close to the traitor Yadomaru Lisa, but nobody had thought that she would try to continue with their plan after the conspirators had been discovered. A vice-captain, trying to break into the Central 46's Assembly Hall . . . she had waited eighty-five years to do it.

If Yadomaru's treachery had survived until then, there was always the question: where else might it have spread? These days, the Central 46 chambers were more closed off to the outside world than ever, and the Onmitsukido was careful and thorough.

The lamp flickered.

* * *

It was nearly lunchtime, and Byakuya realized that he had hardly even made a start in his work for the day. He reprimanded himself; it was unlike him to fall behind, and he could hardly rely on Kotetsu to pull up his slack.

He left his desk neatly arranged and went to find Ukitake. At least he could ask Rukia's captain if he might know what had happened, although it appeared recently that Ukitake was hardly even involved in the running of his own division. He did recall that Ukitake had been kind to him when he had been a child, had given him sweets and . . . yes, that was right, a toy carp that could be put in water and made to float, although he hadn't found it very entertaining. But it had been given with good intentions.

A few flame-colored leaves were still visible here and there on the way to the Thirteenth Division barracks, gathered in corners between buildings or on paths that the Fourth Division hadn't recently swept. The trees themselves, however, were bare. They looked thirsty this time of year; the branches were reaching out for water, and the ground was dry.

Byakuya ran into Hinamori, Ukitake's vice-captain, on his way into their barracks, and she led him the rest of the way, sending him nervous glances all the while. He had to repress his irritation at this: even if she found him intimidating, she was a vice-captain, after all.

At last, she showed him into her captain's office. Ukitake had his hands folded over the blanket on his lap and his long white hair spread out over his shoulders; today, his age was showing on his face, and his smile for his vice-captain was strained. There was a sickly scent of medicine in the room—it was too sweet, thought Byakuya. Why didn't they open a window? Because it was too cold?

"Thank you, Momo," said Ukitake, with a trace of his old warmth. "Please don't let us be disturbed unless it's something very important."

"Yes, Captain," she said, with another nervous glance, and left.

Byakuya found himself stirring uneasily in his chair. He was about to inquire into Ukitake's health, as always, when Ukitake said, "I suppose that we should speak about your younger sister."

"That was, indeed, the matter I came to discuss," said Byakuya.

"I owe you my apologies," said Ukitake quietly. The skin on his hands was translucent; the veins were visible, blue and green.

"To what are you referring?" said Byakuya.

"Could it be that—" said Ukitake, and then he saw Byakuya's confusion and said, "You aren't aware yet, then." His hands unfolded. "This morning your sister came to me and offered her resignation. She has left my division."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Augh, this was so hard to write! Poor Byakuya is always making the worst decisions for the best of reasons. And poor Ukitake is not very well at all.

**Please review!**

Also: I'm going to be aiming for a roughly weekly update schedule.**  
**


	3. Chapter 3

"I see," said Byakuya, standing. "If you'll excuse me."

Ukitake nodded, but as Byakuya turned to leave he said, "Byakuya."

Byakuya turned.

"I truly am sorry," said Ukitake. There was a bloodied handkerchief on the floor by Ukitake's feet, partly tucked under the edge of the blanket; as soon as Byakuya saw it, he averted his eyes. "Please tell your sister that I will always be happy to see her, if she stops by."

Byakuya straightened his sleeves. "I will," he said, and left the dense air of Ukitake's office.

The corridors of the barracks were vacant, lacking the hustle and bustle Byakuya knew from his own division; his footsteps, light as he knew they were, sounded like hammerfalls on the polished wooden floor. Ukitake's subordinates were avoiding him.

He came across Hinamori again not far from the barracks' main entrance. She was carrying a tray with tea, but she'd obviously thought he was already gone; the tray rattled in her hands when she turned the corner and saw him.

"Hinamori-fukutaichou," Byakuya said. "You were a classmate of my sister, were you not?"

"Yes, Kuchiki-taichou," said Hinamori. Acrid-smelling steam curled from the spout of the teapot.

Byakuya allowed his hand to knot into a fist in the privacy of his sleeve. He greatly disliked the necessity of asking the question, but it _was _a necessity. "Do you recall any friend of my sister's who has since withdrawn from the Gotei 13?" he asked.

"No, Kuchiki-taichou," said Hinamori.

As a noble, he'd been taught to spot deceit; Hinamori was not a good liar, though apparently she was a loyal friend. "That is all," Byakuya said.

He continued on, striding as quickly as possible until he was off the thirteenth division grounds. The wind was bitter, but after Ukitake's office its sharpness was welcome.

What would Rukia do in such a situation? Who were her friends, other than Ukitake and Hinamori? He had spoken with her so seldom recently. Byakuya knew that she was a registered member of the Shinigami Women's Association, but he had never known her to speak of Ise or Matsumoto or any of the other women there.

In the end, the only place Byakuya could think to look for Rukia was the manor.

* * *

Byakuya pushed past the great doors of his mansion and hurried to Rukia's bedroom, ignoring the figures of the servants that he passed by. The door of Rukia's room was open—but she wasn't there.

It seemed no different than it ought to be, although Byakuya was hardly familiar with its usual appearance.

Except that her shihakusho, neatly folded, was there in the center of the floor. And next to it rested a letter.

He picked up the letter, unfolded it carefully, and read it.

_With my whole heart, I am grateful for everything you have done for me, and I am sorry to leave in this way, without speaking to you in person. I will always remember the years I have spent here with admiration for your unending kindness. _

_I have returned to Rukongai, and I am leaving my Kuchiki name here. Please do not try to find me. I think it would be best for the world to forget that I was briefly a Kuchiki._

_Thank you so much, again. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate everything you have done for me, and I am sorry that I have nothing to give you in return._

_Thank you, Kuchiki-sama._

_- Rukia._

Byakuya pulled open drawers: her perfectly folded kimono, the beautiful obi he'd given her when she attained shikai, the collection of elegant jewelry that she never wore . . . it was all undisturbed. A single one of those earrings could have bought her food and shelter in Rukongai for years, and she'd left it all.

The only possessions he noticed missing were a few of those trinkets with the rabbit character that he saw her with occasionally.

He would have searched for her anyway. Almost would have sent his servants out into Rukongai and told them not to return without information. If it weren't that . . ._ Kuchiki-sama_. That was what she had written.

He folded the letter into his kosode and closed the doors to the room behind him.

* * *

The next day, he returned to work, keeping on with his duties as though he couldn't hear the whispers that followed him. He went to captains' meetings and instructed his household staff and disciplined Kotetsu when she came in drunk to work.

He was well aware of the glances he received from the people of the manor. They had opposed Rukia's adoption from the start. At nights, he closed himself in his own chambers, wishing for nothing so much as to be able to tell them all to leave. Let the lamps go out, and leave him undisturbed. But this was something his obligations would never allow.

In the end, as much as he had tried to stop Rukia from following that path he knew too well, she had followed it all the same, to an end that he had not anticipated. Even her words had been her sister's. Did he really love so recklessly? What was it about his fate that pressed these same events into being, not once, but twice?

Rukia had left, and that part of him that had been her brother was gone with her. No longer to be called _Nii-sama_. No longer to take pride in the loveliness of her Zanpakuto or her excellence in Kido or the good reports Ukitake made of her. No longer to hold the duty of protecting a younger sister.

Hisana had asked him to take Rukia in as his sister, and he had broken that promise. And yet, as much as he dwelt on his breach of the promise, he thought of the loss of his sister. No matter how many times she called him _Kuchiki-sama_, he could only think of her as his sister. Just as Hisana would always be his wife.

* * *

Weeks passed, and the whispers faded. The first snow arrived, a new delight that had Zaraki's daughter squealing with joy as though she had not seen snow fall for decades past. It was possible, thought Byakuya, that the child did not remember. Memories seemed ephemeral for her.

That day, Byakuya received a note from Aizen inviting him to lunch at his division, as he wanted to ask Byakuya's advice about a class on flash steps Aizen had been asked to teach at the Academy—and, of course, Byakuya was considered to be the fastest at flash steps in the Gotei 13.

Byakuya replied in the affirmative, as it was expected of a captain to assist other captains when necessary, but it wasn't until he reached the steep steps at the Second Division's entrance that he realized: he hadn't seen the second division since Shihouin Yoruichi had been its captain. In his memory, the grounds had been green; it must have been summer, or at least spring. Now they were silvered, made delicate with ice.

A masked subordinate showed him in, and Byakuya seated himself opposite Aizen. There was a sense of calm activity in the barracks, like being inside the workings of a clock: constant quick movement, but with certainty, and no excessive haste. For the first time in a long time, Byakuya felt at ease; as long as the Onmitsukido was being run well, Soul Society was safe.

Except . . . he recalled the records he had found that night. In the weeks since then, those records had been on his mind more and more often.

"And how are affairs in the sixth division?" Aizen asked, after their discussion of flash step technique had come to a satisfactory conclusion. "I'm afraid I've spent too much time talking about myself." He smiled.

"The sixth division is operating well," said Byakuya. He considered again whether he should bring up his discovery—but if anyone in the Gotei 13 was competent to discuss the matter, it was Aizen. He felt even more certain after seeing the smooth workings of Aizen's division, so unlike the disorder that prevailed in too many others.

"However," Byakuya began, "there has been a significant increase in withdrawals over past decades. Not only in my own division, but across the Gotei 13. It is in the Kuchiki family records." He paused. "I have found this to be a matter of concern."

Aizen put down his chopsticks. "I, too, am concerned," he said, all trace of levity gone. "We have been tracking the increased withdrawals for some time." He looked up. "Kuchiki-taichou, I know you will not disseminate any information I reveal."

"Of course."

"Thank you," said Aizen quietly. "Then I will continue: we were able to stop Ise Nanao because we had suspected her disloyalty for some time. But the dissent was not ended with her capture. Kuchiki-taichou, as much as I regret to say it: there has been an insurgence brewing in Rukongai and the lower ranks of the Gotei 13 ever since the rebellion a hundred years ago. We believe it began with supporters of those original traitors, but it continues to spread even now to those who would overturn the rule of the Central 46 and Captain-Commander Yamamoto."

"So, those withdrawals . . ." said Byakuya.

Aizen nodded. "Some of them are shinigami who are dissatisfied with the operation of today's Gotei 13, but many of them withdraw to join the insurgence. And, even worse," he said. "We believe that at least one of the current Gotei 13 captains is the leader of this new treason."

* * *

**Author's note**:

**Please review**—I love getting feedback!

Oh my gosh, this chapter was SO hard to write. I have been lacking inspiration for the past week, plus it's hard to write Byakuya angsting because he's so stoic, but I do think he has a lot of feelings that he keeps locked up. So, anyway, I'm sorry if this chapter is below usual quality.

A couple of things: 1) Apparently Ukitake does call Byakuya "Byakuya"! I encourage you to read Chapter 134, in which Byakuya is a _total bitch _to Ukitake. I would put a heart here but won't let me. 2), if you're thinking, "Wait, Rukia would _never_ leave the Gotei 13!" or something like that—well, that's good. It's supposed to be shocking and surprising! 3), I am trying super hard to keep people in character despite the AU setting. Let me know if you think I'm getting too off-course anywhere!


	4. Chapter 4

Not for the first time, Byakuya considered that the sixth division captain's office was poorly designed. He had placed his desk with his back to the window, so that he would receive the most benefit from its light, but that left him facing a large and empty expanse of office. He had thought of placing some other piece of furniture there to occupy the space, but had never been able to decide upon something appropriate; instead, as always, he found his paperwork to rustle too loudly as he sorted through it, and when he glanced up from it he had only a dull breadth of floor to occupy his gaze.

Byakuya set down his brush.

Aizen had said that he believed there was another traitor among the captains, and he had been competent enough to predict Ise Nanao's betrayal soon enough to apprehend her. Therefore, if Aizen had suspicions, it would be unwise to dismiss them, no matter how much Byakuya wished to. All the troubles of the Gotei 13 had begun on that day a hundred years ago, when the trust Soul Society placed in its captains was shattered, when nearly half of the current captains attempted to displace the government. If another captain did the same . . . Byakuya did not suppose it would be an exaggeration to say that that would be the end of the Gotei 13.

Yesterday Byakuya had sat in the place the once-beloved Shihouin Yoruichi had called home and wondered which of his peers would this time turn against the law. Wild Zaraki? No, Zaraki couldn't even organize his own division, let alone a treacherous conspiracy. Kurotsuchi was insane enough to try to overthrow the Central 46, but he seemed quite pleased with the situation as it was, as he was generally permitted to conduct his repulsive experiments without interference. Ichimaru likewise seemed to lack motivation. He seemed quite contented in doing the little work he appeared to do and wandering around Seireitei making strange and pointless conversation with whomever he met. Ukitake was too ill, Kyouraku too perpetually intoxicated, and so on, and yet . . . it had to be one of them.

And it seemed more and more possible that Rukia had been entangled in this treason. Aizen had said that many of the withdrawals had left to join the conspiracy. When the rebellion was overturned, Rukia might be among the traitors facing the judgment of the Central 46.

He could still prevent that. She had repudiated him, but he could still find her and draw her out of the intrigue. He could not allow her, his sister, once a Kuchiki, to take part in such a betrayal.

"I may research the matter further," he had said to Aizen.

Aizen had nodded. "I trust your judgment, Kuchiki-taichou. Would you inform me if you find something especially interesting?"

"Of course," Byakuya had said.

In order to find Rukia, however, he would first have to take advantage of his vice-captain's weakness. She had, after all, spent a number of years in the thirteenth division with Rukia.

He forced himself to leave his office and enter his vice-captain's, where she jerked alert with a start and made her best attempt at pretending to be working.

"Are you unwell, Kotetsu-fukutaichou?" he said. The smell of alcohol was fairly strong on her, and her eyes seemed quite unfocused. If he wasn't mistaken, she was still inebriated this morning from her drinking the previous night.

"I'm well, Kuchiki-taichou! Thank you!" she said desperately, scribbling on the paper in front of her.

"I see," he said, turning to leave. "Oh, one more thing, Kotetsu-fukutaichou. My memory lapses: that friend of Rukia's who withdrew from his division—what was his name?"

Kotetsu looked baffled at this sudden inquiry. "Oh—you mean Abarai-kun, sir?"

"That's right," said Byakuya. _Abarai_. Was the name slightly familiar? "That is all."

He left his shaken but slightly relieved vice-captain to drift asleep again in her office. Today, perhaps he owed it to her.

Byakuya used his lunch break to take the opportunity to visit the manor again. Now that he had a name, it was easy to turn to the Academy histories and scan the enrollment records for Rukia's acquaintance; in fact, Byakuya found him on his first try, listed among the other entrants in the same year that Rukia had entered the Academy. _Abarai Renji, placed in advanced class, district of origin: Inuzuri._

His finger paused over the word _Inuzuri_. Byakuya had assumed that the man Rukia was looking for had been involved with her romantically; with this information, however, it seemed possible that they had also known one another before entering the Academy—as children. That cast a different light on the matter.

Nevertheless, the record showed that Abarai had been accepted the fifth division on graduating, and had withdrawn from the fifth division ten years or so afterward.

He would need to visit Captain Oomaeda—little as the man deserved the title.

* * *

The fifth division barracks were not to Byakuya's taste.

When Oomaeda had attained office—lacking possession of bankai, to Byakuya's displeasure—he had seen fit to remodel his division. Each door and doorframe, the railings to the once pleasant walkways and balconies, the walls of the courtyard—every inch of spare wood had been crusted with ostentatious ornamentation, usually incorporating Oomaeda's name in the design. Byakuya noticed on this occasion that the precious metals in the designs appeared not to have been cleaned in some time: they were tarnishing.

In the center of it all was Oomaeda. When Byakuya entered his office, he was having a loud argument with his lieutenant.

"I'm fuckin' telling you, it doesn't matter if Zaraki-taichou has bankai or not—" Madarame caught sight of Byakuya and abruptly closed his mouth.

Oomaeda spun around. "Kuchiki! Whaddya think of the new floors?" He hammered his foot on the floorboards for emphasis. "Nice and warm, huh?"

"Oomaeda-taichou," said Byakuya frostily. "I am visiting on an administrative matter as part of my duty as Kuchiki family historian. I would request to see certain of your personnel records."

"Of course, of course! I know how it is," Oomaeda said in a comradely fashion. "Madarame, show Kuchiki-taichou the files, will you?"

Madarame scratched his head and led Byakuya to a dank room in the recesses of the barracks.

It felt strange to Byakuya to finally touch a physical record of someone who had seemed like a phantom for so long. He spread open the paper, and there it was, recorded in slightly faded ink: a long listing of policy infractions, rule violations, reprimands and punishments for one who had been in the division for only five years. Abarai's crimes were tardiness, thoughtlessness, accidental damage to division property, not listening to instructions, and an excessive willingness to respond in kind if challenged. The person who had written the record had also, however, noted Abarai's significant spiritual power and his devotion to training. Something of an explosive combination.

There were no clues as to where Abarai might have gone—but there was a note referring to Abarai having manifested tattoos as he increased in spiritual power, which was quite a rare phenomenon. Facial tattoos, it said. That stirred a memory Byakuya had not thought of in many years.

He had been speaking to Rukia at the Academy about the finalization of her adoption, and a boy had burst in, calling Rukia's name. He'd had bright red hair, as Byakuya recalled, and tattoos on his forehead: quite a memorable person, actually, with more spiritual power than average for an Academy student. Yet Byakuya did not recall seeing this noticeable person ever again.

What a waste, Byakuya thought, replacing the file in its cabinet. Abarai had obviously been someone with considerable promise. It was a shame he had chosen to use it so poorly.

The information he had now, however, was enough for him to send the search parties out into Rukongai, with instructions to keep their goal a secret. Abarai Renji, facial tattoos, possible red hair, significant spiritual power. And Rukia: but they knew her description well.

Days went past, and he waited. Byakuya had instructed them to begin their search in Inuzuri, the one place to which he knew Abarai and Rukia held ties, even though it would have been foolish of them to actually hide there. But Inuzuri was searched with no success, and the parties spread out into the neighboring districts.

It was not until the next week that Byakuya received a note through the Gotei 13 inter-office mail. It was marked on the outside as an administrative message from the 12th division, which was puzzling. If Kurotsuchi thought he was going to get sixth division members as test subjects, he was sorely mistaken.

Byakuya opened the message, and it read: _If you want to find Abarai Renji, look to the Maggots' Nest._

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **Ugh, sorry this chapter was so thinky and with so little action. I have more action planned for the next chapter! Who do you think is the traitor captain that Aizen's talking about, hmm? (If such a person exists at all.)

Anyways, please review and let me know what you think! I'm not used to writing long stories, so advice helps. And thank you to my repeat reviewers: your feedback really really helps! : )


	5. Chapter 5

The letter now rested in a locked drawer in Byakuya's private study. His first instinct had been to destroy it with kido, but just before he'd produced the flame he'd realized he was acting as though he was guilty. He had not solicited the message. It was better to preserve it as evidence for the future.

Without a doubt, that letter was proof: there was at least one traitor within the Gotei 13, and that traitor had been watching his movements. That was distasteful.

Yet did the nature of the letter's source prevent him from acting upon its message? What could a traitor's motive be in directing him to this place, the Maggots' Nest? Was there a possibility that he might truly find Abarai there?

The servants had returned again that morning, their burdened breath lingering as smoke against the dawn. They had found not even a footprint in the trail of Rukia or her associate, Abarai. It was as though the two had dissipated into nothingness, like Hollows at the final strike.

Byakuya had hoped that the Maggots' Nest was some location in Rukongai, but the servants in his search parties had not heard of it either.

Byakuya's patience was stretched. Shinigami should not vanish like dew, and places should not be lost within the concentric map that was Soul Society. Rukongai existed in districts, divided by number and quarter. Seireitei was well-ordered, with the various Gotei 13 barracks as beacons throughout, and the Shrine of Penitence as its center. There was no room for mysterious places that couldn't be found, like magical lands in a children's story, or for letters without senders . . .

As the search parties had gathered again to leave for Rukongai, specks of snow had begun to drift over the manor gardens, circling but never settling on the ground. The trees wavered in the wind; leafless, their color was dulled with dryness and the cold.

His mind made up, Byakuya made his way to the other wing of the manor.

He found his grandfather in a familiar pose: seated at a desk by the window, nearly motionless as he read. It might have been an image of Ginrei a hundred years ago, thought Byakuya, or of Byakuya himself some hundreds of years in the future.

"Good afternoon, Grandfather," Byakuya said.

An unseen branch rattled against the eave.

"Grandfather, I had hoped to ask for your advice," said Byakuya.

"Byakuya," Ginrei said. "Come in." His gaze caught his grandson as he sat. There was little patience or tolerance in it as far as Byakuya could tell, but it was difficult to be certain. The former head of the Kuchiki family had always been known for his calm and dignified manner. Byakuya had never known him to raise his voice.

"Grandfather, I have been looking for information on a place called the Maggots' Nest," Byakuya began.

His grandfather's hand moved slightly over the desk. "That place is not for you to question," said Ginrei at last. "Have you broken the law, Byakuya?"

"I have upheld the law, Grandfather," he said.

"I see." His grandfather's gaze fell again to his reading. Ginrei did not seem to feel the chill in the room, though it felt as though it was muting all of Byakuya's other senses: vision, hearing, time . . .

"Rukia . . . is she well?" said Ginrei.

"She is well," said Byakuya.

"And Hisana . . . is she well?"

Byakuya closed his eyes. "She is well, Grandfather."

"Byakuya," said Ginrei. "The people of Soul Society are watching you. Your behavior must show an example for them."

"I understand," he said. How many thousands of times had his grandfather given him that warning? And, still, he had disregarded it.

_We must set the standard for all Shinigami_.

Byakuya waited, but his grandfather said nothing else. In the end, he made his goodbyes without receiving a reply.

* * *

Nothing in any of the documents or records in the Kuchiki archives mentioned the Maggots' Nest.

But there was work to be done in the sixth division. He had allowed Kotetsu's absences and drunkenness to go on for too long. The third day in a row that she arrived an hour late for work, he instructed her to return home, and then wrote a missive to the Captain-Commander requesting a new vice-captain.

He was writing late into the night to finish her paperwork in addition to his own when he found another note among his letters.

_If you want to know about the Maggots' Nest, go at midnight to the abandoned training grounds on Mount Koifushi in the third district of West Rukongai._

He held the letter in his hand for a moment, and then he incinerated it with a well-aimed spark of kido.

There was a traitor connected to the servants in his house, that much was clear.

It was also clear that nobody else was remaining in the sixth division barracks at this time of night. Byakuya prided himself on how well he sensed reiatsu, and there was none around. The usual background hum of spirit energy around him was silenced.

He took Senbonzakura from its place in the closet and veiled himself in the same kido he had used to follow Rukia. Then he locked his office door behind himself and flash stepped to the nearest rooftop. He could see Mount Koifushi in the distance.

A fixed point. A first step toward an answer to the confusion that had been closing in around him for weeks. Traitors in the Gotei 13, officers that stank of medicine and alcohol and sweat, a message placed on a folded shihakusho, a faded file in a dingy room . . .

* * *

The earth of the old training ground was rocky, hardened under the long-ago footsteps of youthful sandals. This place was linked to the Shiba family, and particularly to Shiba Kaien, who had liked to train his subordinates here. After his death, it had ceased to be used. Byakuya would hardly have been surprised if the Shibas were placed at the heart of the insurrection, but it seemed too obvious for the culprit to use a location so known as theirs. Even so . . .

Byakuya felt a surge of spiritual pressure in the skeleton of a tree behind him, and turned quickly. "Who are you?" he said.

In the darkness, all he could tell was that on the lowest bough was perched a small figure, hooded and wearing a Noh mask with demonic qualities. "You think I'd answer that, dumbass?" it—either a woman or a child—said, leaning forward. "I'm the one with the information here, so you shut up and do what I say."

Byakuya's hand went to Senbonzakura's hilt. "If you wished to challenge me—"

"Do you want to know about the Maggots' Nest or not?"

Byakuya allowed his hand to remain resting on his zanpakuto. "Speak your knowledge, then, and do not waste my time."

"Then don't waste _my _time, asshole, and listen." The girl—if it was a girl—crossed her arms. "You're all idiots, and you're all letting yourselves be deceived. Abarai Renji was put in prison years ago—in a giant fucking underground prison right in the middle of Seireitei. That's what the Maggots' Nest is."

The wind was strong at this high elevation, and there was dust in the air. "Then what was his crime?" said Byakuya.

"Didn't have one. No crime. No trial. No judgment by the Central 46—not like it even matters," she snarled. "Getting the idea? More and more, over the last hundred years, they've been picking out the ones like Abarai and dumping them in the Maggots' Nest. You're too smart and too talented, you question what you're told, you stand up to stuff you think is wrong: you wake up in the Nest. They mark it down as a withdrawal in the books, fake a letter to your friends, and you're gone. Forever.

"And now, when everything's so fucked up in the Gotei 13, nobody's asking any questions. That's the point. They're talking about a conspiracy outside—it's all inside! Fucking morons!" She kicked the tree. "And everybody who noticed got taken out. You actually think Ise Nanao would have tried to murder the Central 46? It's bullshit!"

"You are insane," said Byakuya, drawing his sword. "Yet, nonetheless, your words are treason against the Gotei 13."

"Do I have to beat it into your head?" said the figure on the branch, not drawing back an inch. "Where do you think your sister is?"

* * *

**A/N: **This story is far from over. There is a lot more to come.

With respect to Ginrei: I've had more than one relative suffer from dementia. It's heartbreaking. I hope I successfully portrayed it in a respectful way. I think Ginrei isn't officially dead, so I figured this might be a reason for him to have given the leadership of the 6th division and the leadership of the family up to Byakuya.

Let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Morning was beginning to show in the ripples on the surface of the glassy koi pond, pink and gold flashes reflecting the first edge of the dawn unfurling above the mountains.

Byakuya had been awake since sunset. Through the night, as he'd walked, the reflection of his pale kenseikan and scarf had floated over the opaque waters of the manor's streams and ponds, following him like a ghost.

He should have killed the traitor girl last night on Mount Koifushi. Failing that, he should have captured her and brought her to the Captain-Commander for punishment. He hadn't; that meant he was now complicit in the crime. Another broken law at the door of the Kuchiki house.

Byakuya had been ready to utter the Six Rod Prison of Light spell and immobilize the girl, but then—he had not expected such a bold lie about Rukia, and for an instant, he had been lost for words.

And the girl had gone on. "That's right. She brought too much attention looking for Abarai, so they caught her too. You get it now?" The wind flicked a strand of blonde hair out from between the mask and the hood. "'There's somebody in there, somebody smart and cruel and patient," she said, gesturing toward the walled city. "He's been playing this game for a long time, but it's almost over now. 'Cos soon, really soon, the Gotei 13 squads are gonna fail for good, and he'll take over, and there'll be nobody left in there to stop him."

The branches of the tree shivered.

Byakuya remembered what Aizen had said to him far away, in the quiet bustle at the heart of the Onmitsukido: _We believe that at least one of the current Gotei 13 captains is the leader of this new treason._

Was the girl planning to frame an innocent captain to draw attention away from the real traitor? Or was the captain Aizen spoke of also using this girl for his own ends somehow? Who did she represent, anyway? She at least was not acting alone—Byakuya had been spied on multiple times, and they had delivered the letter to him through the Gotei 13 mail system. They had contacts among the shinigami, perhaps even among his own servants. No, this girl, whoever she was, represented a network, and not a small one.

Seireitei's high walls of sekkiseki glimmered in the moonlight.

"You are implying that I am in a position to stop 'him,'" said Byakuya.

The grotesque mask tilted back slightly, as though its wearer was trying to get a better look at him. "Maybe I am," she said.

From the height of the mountain, Byakuya could just make out the borders of the Kuchiki estate, far away inside Seireitei's circle. He knew their shape too well: there was the river that ran through from east to west, hemmed in by bridges; there was the main gate to the north. Those landmarks had stood in place for centuries without end.

A vast secret prison underneath the city? Ludicrous. Ordinary shinigami might be ignorant enough to believe such a story, but she was a fool to expect him, a captain and head of a family that had lived in Seireitei since before memory, not to see through it.

And yet—and yet, there was that idea that had slipped through in his moment of hesitation, that was staying him now from capturing her as he ought.

The cause was desperate: in that only, the masked girl had spoken the truth. Aizen, for all his diligence and intelligence, had not been able to uncover the heart of the conspiracy, and the Gotei 13 squads were depleted in number and clothed in disgrace. Any intelligent person could sense it on the wind: the law was losing its power.

_There has been an insurgence brewing in Rukongai and the lower ranks of the Gotei 13 ever since the rebellion a hundred years ago._

But this girl had a connection to something, _some_ source of information about the conspiracy. She had spies within Seireitei, and her own spiritual pressure was not negligible—at the level of a vice-captain or even higher, Byakuya estimated. She was someone important, possibly even one of the missing withdrawn officers.

She could lead him to the ultimate answers he was searching for, the answers that Aizen hadn't been able to find.

_I have upheld the law, Grandfather._

But he hadn't. He'd seen what was happening around him, and for fifty years he'd allowed the ruin to continue, doing nothing to prevent it. Except for those two instances of his own disgrace, he had obeyed the laws to the letter, but nonetheless he had not protected them.

Now he had a chance to find the root of the corruption that was worming through Soul Society: if he took that chance, the insurgence might still be prevented. If not . . . disaster.

Could one protect the law by breaking it? Uncover treachery by walking further into it?

Was his reason irrevocably twisted?

The empty gardens had no answer. Byakuya could feel the presence of the house behind him, blind and grey and ancient.

No, he told himself. Preserving the order in Soul Society took precedence over all other concerns. He had to protect the law; his own integrity did not matter in comparison to that.

"Meet me here again in a week's time," the girl had said from behind the mask. "If you haven't squealed on us by then, we start talking for real."

But dawn had bloomed in fullness over the jagged horizon while he was lost in thought. He would have to make haste in order to arrive at the office in time.

* * *

That morning, the captains gathered, as always, for the weekly meeting. The captains' meeting was meant to be a perfect confluence of the different divisions of the Gotei 13: separate entities moving separately, but as part of an intelligent system, working for a single purpose under the gaze of the Captain-Commander. It was supposed to be elegant.

Instead, the gathering of captains had brought to mind barnyard animals scattering in a thunderstorm. Captain Zaraki: spattered in blood. Captain Kotetsu: trembling and exhausted. Captain Oomaeda, yawning loudly and shuffling his feet in boredom. Captain Kurotsuchi, reeking of vile chemical fumes, laughing under his breath. Captain Ukitake had been excused from attendance, having been confined to his bed for several days now.

And Captain Kyouraku was simply not present.

Byakuya had anticipated Kyouraku stumbling in late, as he had done many times before. This time, however, the meeting came to a close without Captain Kyouraku's appearance.

Yamamoto knotted his hands together atop his staff and asked if any of the captains who were present knew where Captain Kyouraku was.

Byakuya averted his gaze. Of course they all knew where he was: under a table in Rukongai, most likely. No doubt Kotsubaki was even now racing through the streets, trying to find his captain again.

_Disgrace._

Kotetsu coughed nervously into her sleeve.

"Captain Kotetsu, Captain Aizen," said Yamamoto. "Retrieve Captain Kyouraku and bring him to either the infirmary or the first division detention cells, as your judgment dictates."

And the meeting had dispersed into a frosty morning.

Still lacking a suitable candidate for vice-captain, Byakuya had worked through his division's paperwork alone. He hardly felt Kotetsu Kiyone's absence; she had contributed little to the workings of the division. Yet, when he passed the vice-captain's office, next to his, on his way down the corridor, the room was dark and empty. He closed the door to it.

It turned out to be the infirmary: Kyouraku Shunsui was recovering there for the time being.

The next morning, a bulletin was delivered to each captain: the eighth division captain had been removed from office.

* * *

Mornings dawned again, one after another. Ice glazed the surface of the koi pond, so that the bright shapes of the giant koi were only blurs under its haze. There had been no applicants as of yet to take the Captain's qualification exam: most likely, none of the current vice-captains were bankai-capable. A hundred years ago, the Gotei 13 had tapped its reserves of talent to fill the vacancies left by the betrayal, and it seemed that time had not yet replenished those reserves. Either that, or the Academy was no longer producing the quality of graduates it once had.

Byakuya closed the doors to his room behind him, and then slowly unfurled his scarf from his shoulders and allowed it to fall onto the floor.

He sat and then looked up at the portrait of his late wife.

It was too small. At the time, he had wished to have a larger picture, but somehow he had not ever obtained one. It was only fifty years ago, and yet his memory seemed faded; perhaps he had convinced himself that there would be enough time to take another picture at some point later on. With Hisana, he had always been like that.

When he'd asked her to marry him, she'd held on to his hand and apologized, saying that she wasn't able to return his love. He'd said, "That doesn't matter to me. I want to take care of you."

She'd smiled. "Then, if it makes Byakuya-sama happy, I accept."

And he had been happy at their wedding, and proud. In those days, it had seemed nothing less than glorious that she was his wife, no matter what the conditions.

On nights like this, when he couldn't sleep, she'd slip her hand into his and watch the sky with him, whether there was bright moonlight outside or dull rain. She had been so happy when he brought small gifts home for her—little things he was sure weren't well chosen, but she treasured every one. And he had hoped that, with time, despite her search for her sister, despite her illness, despite everything, their happiness would grow into love.

These days, he sometimes wondered if she had truly been happy at all. And sometimes he thought that she would have grown to love him if death had not ended their marriage far too soon.

The only thing that seemed certain was that his past was a history of errors in his own judgment, with the loss of Rukia only the most recent.

_Hisana, please tell me what I should do_.

But the portrait only smiled into empty air.

The night grew colder, and, as the manor guard changed at eleven p.m., a black-clad figure flash-stepped over the walls and westward, toward Mount Koifushi.

* * *

**A/N:** **Please review**! And thank you to those who have reviewed. : ) It's great to hear your thoughts!

This chapter was so hard to write. Sorry if it's poor quality—I hope I made Byakuya's thought processes clear, at least. Please let me know where you think I can improve.

Finals and so on will be happening to me from now on, so there may not be another update until winter break. : /


End file.
